<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>and lately, i'm not afraid of monsters by CrystallizedInsomniac</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848441">and lately, i'm not afraid of monsters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac'>CrystallizedInsomniac</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Developing Relationship, Drugs, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Mammon is a Good Friend, Other, alt title to this fic is: "so. you decided to form a pact with a demon? a beginner's guide", but who's looking out for him? (spoiler alert: also you), he's really looking out for you, self-destructive tendencies anyone?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:02:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You've only been here for two weeks and so far things having been going, well, not great. <i>But</i>—at least you're not dead! That has to count for something, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 01</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title comes from a song, i can't remember which one and i'm too lazy to google the lyrics. so.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>01.</strong>
</p><p>The novelty of magic wears off on the second day. </p><p>Or more accurately: it wears off the second you're given a school uniform for the academic institution you've been "forced" to attend, a class schedule, and the very stern reminder that you're not here to slack off or relax. You have <em>responsibilities </em>(because of course you do).</p><p>You also get blessed with the horrible knowledge that you're a <em>representative for humankind</em>.</p><p>To which you'd like to argue that you're the worst possible choice ever. Seriously. Who picked you? Why <em>you</em> out of all of the—possible—candidates. It's not like you don't already have a lot of personal shit that you have to deal with. So sure, you can be the human representative.</p><p>No problem whatsoever.</p><p>(You're half tempted to ask them right there as you're being walked around campus escorted by Lucifer, Prince Diavolo and his personal butler, Barbatos, if they'd also like for you to <em>clean around the house, you know, help Lucifer out with his rowdy brothers, </em>since clearly you're here to work. You get a disapproving look from Lucifer, a very excited and encouraging short speech from Diavolo about bonding and the awful realization that sarcasm seems to fly over his head, and a cut off chuckle from Barbatos).</p><p>But as it stands, you're beginning to realize that your word means shit around here. (Until it doesn't).</p><p>You learn to roll with it, for now.</p><p>Case in point: college students, regardless of their age or race or even <em>species, </em>can all relate to the horrible stress of exams and classes and the societal pressures of excelling. Which is why it's not surprising in the slightest when after being assigned to Mammon as his charge, you've been going up and down between hallways and buildings trailing alongside Mammon during class shifts, stopping every now and then to talk to group of students that you realize that <em>wow,</em> it <em>really isn't any different than back home</em>.</p><p>The first few times you hadn't paid much attention to it. Mammon would start talking, the other demons would greet him like a close friend, take a look your way and ask questions. To which Mammon would tell them to <em>not mind them, they just like following me 'round</em> and that's when you would scowl and pay attention to your D.D.D. like you have friends to talk to you, and not Lucifer's daily check-in text that you've (pettily) have kept on read every single time.</p><p>Leave him be to do whatever it is that he does when he's flashing his dumb red shoulder-cape that signifies his status on the council.</p><p>(He's not wrong.)</p><p>However, it doesn't take you long to notice that these little meetings happen <em>frequently</em>, and not because he's stopped by random demons throughout the day. No. Mammon moves with purpose.</p><p>You're pretty sure Lucifer only did assign you to him because Mammon is the fourth strongest in all of the Devildom, but also because he's part of the RAD Student Council that actively does <em>nothing.</em> So you know, <em>keep the human exchange student busy and out of trouble</em> seems to be Mammon's student council responsibility for the time being.</p><p>Surprisingly, he didn't complain and it's not like you consider yourself a Mammon expert (by that point in time you've known each other for less than two hours and have yet to, stupidly, sell your soul) but the lack of a fight after the original spectacle he made when Lucifer threatened him, had you expecting something else.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, it takes him exactly twenty-four hours before he tells you with a shit-eating grin that maybe having you around is good for him. Keeps his brothers off his back. </p><p>(You think you should feel, well, used. It is not the case).</p><p>When you notice him slip some students a small black package in exchange for money. Your curiosity is peaked.</p><p>Then you start paying attention. </p><p>It's smart, gotta give him that. His status in the student council allows him to move freely around without being questioned—unless by his other siblings, but Lucifer is rarely around and the only one you actually see doing his job is Satan, and Mammon is <em>very good</em> at staying out of the other's patrol areas—and on the off chance that one of his brothers <em>do</em> drop by, he switches tactics which fool <em>absolutely</em> no one, if the way his brothers roll their eyes and ignore him, you, and the group of students he's been <em>dealing</em> to, is anything to go by.</p><p>It's clear that he's worked out other's assumptions about him to his benefit, and if anything you can respect that. </p><p>This isn't to say that he hasn't caught on to the fact that you <em>know</em> already. Sometimes he catches you looking, raising an eyebrow, waiting for you to say anything, <em>ask</em> anything. But if he's expecting you to do any of the sorts, he's going to be solely disappointed. All you do is tell him that you're going to be late to your class, and that he needs to hurry up.</p><p>You hear him mumble once about how when it was the two of them, it was easier. It was fun. You instantly assume he must mean his other brother, the one that got exchanged in your stead.</p><p>You often wonder if that's why he brings you along—if he's expecting you to fill out a role you didn't sign up for.</p><p>Which brings you to the present—your next class alongside with his starts in half an hour, and Mammon's been making good use of his time. With your classes being the same ones due to his inability to actually hand in his work or show up for his exams, Mammon's job becomes easier. The whole "staying by the human's side" thing, the thing that <em>he </em>says makes him feel like a babysitter but it is, in fact, the opposite.</p><p>You watched, with no short amount of respect, as he went from flat-out broke to stuffing his pockets with <em>way</em> too much grimm exchanged for... what the thing is. </p><p>So he's lead you to a pretty populated area of campus, with demons of all kinds simply existing, moving about. No one pays the five of you any attention, no one except for you—standing behind mammon, fiddling with the cuff of your uniform and wondering the history behind this specific group. Mammon's pretty popular, you've noticed, but these exchanges don't usually last this long. </p><p>(You want it to be over, you feel... awkward, standing behind him but still visible to the others and they're just... ignoring you. Which would be fine and all, but you see gazes flickering your way briefly before moving. Like you're not being entertaining enough and <em>god</em>, that sucks.)</p><p>"What about your little pet over there?" </p><p>It takes you a second to register the four pair of eyes now focused on you. </p><p>"What about em?" Mammon huffs, and while you do notice that he didn't go out of his way to correct them on the fact that you're not his <em>pet</em>—or anyone's, for that matter—his voice does take a defensive edge to it and he does position his body so that he's in between you and the group of students.</p><p>There's a lot to be said however, since he still refers to you as "human" and not, you know, your given name. </p><p>"Morningstar using the new student to spy on you, Mammon?"</p><p><em>Morningstar, </em>huh. That's new. </p><p>"No." Mammon says.</p><p>"Then what?" That's another demon, your eyes flicker to her face. You think you know her from one of your Alchemy classes, but you're not too sure. "They're just following after you?"</p><p>"Like a lil puppy, ain't that cute?" The third demon snickers, and when his eyes land on you, he shoots you a too-sharp grin, eyelids lowered. "Can they bark?"</p><p>And the thing is, you're not quiet because you have no comeback to hit them with, or because you believe yourself to be above petty things like childish insults.</p><p>No, you're <em>definitely </em>not above those. You should know. </p><p>You're quiet because as soon as they've begun taunting you, Mammon's <em>tail</em> and horns have begun to show up, and something tells you he's probably not even aware of the fact.</p><p>(Your hands are shaking, but you too, are unaware of said fact.)</p><p>"Hey." Mammon's voice sounds too fake, too happy. It's not particularly loud either. Even so, everyone in the vicinity shivers, like being doused in cold water. </p><p>Mammon makes a sound. Actually, no. Mammon makes <em>multiple</em> sounds, and it takes you a second to realize that he's speaking. You can't understand anything, but it sounds... pleasant.</p><p>But just because it <em>sounds </em>pleasant doesn't mean that whatever it is that he's saying is. The other three demons look away, chastised, and suddenly you're far more interested in watching them than watching Mammon's tail.</p><p>When he's done, you see him shift his weight and even from behind you can tell he's grinning. He switches back to a language you can understand. "Made myself clear?"</p><p>"Yeah." Alchemy-class demon says, and then her lips quirk upwards in amusement. She leans towards Mammon, and runs her hand along his horn. "Dont take it personally, 'monie. No need to pull out the horns, we were just joking around."</p><p>Mammon sounds confused when he takes a step back. "The fuck do you—" and then his own hand comes up to touch the blackened horns sprouting from white hair. </p><p>Mammon lets out a surprised noise before turning around to stare at you. One hand over his horn and the other, funnily enough, on his backside, probably realizing his tail has finally made an appearance as well.</p><p>Blue eyes, wide and confused, scan your face before something like recognition flicker in them. Then you watch as his eyes settle down to the palm of your hand, his eyes narrow.</p><p>"We're leaving." He mutters, walking past you and grabbing onto your wrist, tugging you along.</p><p>"W-wait!" You pull back, throat closing on you. It's getting difficult to breathe. "Mammon wait!"</p><p>"No." He says.</p><p>And really, there's not a lot you <em>can</em> do save for trying to unsuccessfully try to not pass out because <em>fuck, you really can't breathe. </em>Which all in all is just plain out <em>weird</em> because it's Mammon that's dragging you around one of the school buildings, uncaring of the way the other students stop and look at him. You'd like to think you no longer fear him, and you're one-hundred percent positive of that fact when he finally drags the two of you to a secluded little spot, corners you into a wall and <em>looms</em> over you.</p><p>There's no fear there—which could be due to a faulty lack of self-preservation from your part, what's with the tail and the horns and the <em>sharp</em> looking teeth he's baring at you, like a feral little dog—only the ever present buzz of quiet anxiety that you've learned to ignore.</p><p>That and something that you can't quite put into words that isn't <em>dawning realization</em>, except it feels more like you're spectating the whole thing from a third-point of view, even if it's coming from inside of you. Burning, itching at the palm of your hand where his pact mark sits dark and permanent. </p><p>He has not stopped holding on to your wrist.</p><p>"What is your fuckin' problem?" He breathes out, hold on you tightening. Which is just unfair all things considered. </p><p><em>I should be the one asking you, asshole.</em> "I didn't do anything." You blink up at him, lips drawing out into a thin line. You can be stubborn when you want to be. </p><p>(You hands feel sweaty, which is, gross).</p><p>You try to pull your arm back, and surprisingly, Mammon lets go. He takes a step back, and it becomes surprisingly easy to breathe now. No demon crowding in on your space. </p><p>While you're silently cursing him out, Mammon takes the moment to recollect himself. You hear him huff, and when you look up from your wrist—inspecting to see if there'd be any bruises that you'd need to cover lest Lucifer get's the wrong idea and Mammon is punished, again—you see that his tail and horns are gone. His eyes, are a duller color now, or well. Not dull, just back to their regular shine and not the glowing thing they were doing before.</p><p>(Somehow, you feel like that's something you <em>should've</em> noticed back when he threatened you. Of which there have been multiple occasions, but only—and this is a guessed estimate because fear does nothing to help retain memory—two of those was he sporting the demon look).</p><p>So Mammon stares at you, and you stare back. Slowly, ever so slowly, you feel that weird feeling begin to ease into the familiar buzzing you're more knowledgeable of. </p><p>"Okay." Mammon says, rubbing the bottom of his face, white eyebrows furrowed slightly. He pauses, before looking down at your hand and then back up at you. "Hand."</p><p>You raise an eyebrow, "why?" </p><p>A flicker of irritation in his gaze, but it's soon dropped alongside the hand covering his face. "'m being nice, c'mon. Hand."</p><p>You roll your eyes but do it anyways, hyperaware of the way he holds on to your hand like it's something fragile. Which you might as well be.</p><p>Mammon turns your hand this way and that, fingers pressing down on your pulse and feeling out the beat of your heart. You're silent, and a little embarrassed when his thumb traces the pact mark sigil on your palm. </p><p>It would probably look intimate, if someone were to walk into the scene. With your face heating up and pressed back against the wall, with Mammon's hands cradling yours, tracing shapes on your palm. Your heart skips a beat, but a flicker of nervousness begins to show up and—</p><p>"Aw shit," and then Mammon hisses out, and his gaze goes from your hand up to you. He holds eye contact with you, and he looks... well. Sad.</p><p>Pity.</p><p>"Don't tell me I'm going to die." You squint, fifty-percent serious.</p><p>Mammon blinks. Opens his mouth. "What."</p><p>You make a vague gesture with your other hand, the free one. Awkward and clunky, like you're not too sure how to position your body or move it or do anything. "Aren't you... like reading my palm or something."</p><p>Mammon doesn't deign you with an answer, and <em>that</em> doesn't help with the fucking nerves. So you try to pull your hand back, and when he doesn't let go and you try again, and again, <em>and again</em> with no results. It's safe to say that you're panicking a little.</p><p>(You are also annoyed, and that dumb feeling of <em>pity</em> won't leave your chest and it's wrong because it's not you—)</p><p>Mammon shoves something in your hand. You inhale a breath, hold it in. Still making eye contact with him, you peer down at your open palm. </p><p>"I don't do drugs." You hiss out, if a little panicked. You're twenty-five percent sure you're breaking some sort of rule in that contract you signed not too long <em>just</em> by holding the little packet. You're not sure what your face looks like, but it makes Mammon's face flush self-consciously. He stops holding your hand, again.</p><p>(You curl your hand around the packet, and do not drop it).</p><p>"It's not—" Mammon starts, then stops. His blue eyes consider you for a second before he sighs, hand rubbing the back of his neck and gaze lowering to the side. "It's ain't drugs." You shoot him a look. "At least not the kind to fuck you up, they help." </p><p>"Help?"</p><p>"Ya know..." he makes a vague motion with his hands, but the way his shoulders are tensing let you know that he's becoming frustrated. "Takes the edge off."</p><p><em>The edge off, </em>he says. Like you're supposed to know what that means. </p><p>"I don't think Lord Diavolo would want me to..." you trail off, the package in your palm feels incriminating. </p><p>Mammon rolls his eyes at that, and you're almost expecting him to make fun of you. "Why are you so worried over what he'd think? Gonna tell me he took your opinion into consideration when he dragged your ass here?"</p><p>"I mean, no but—"</p><p>"Then just trust me on this." Mammon sighs. "I'm not tryin' to get ya in trouble if that's what's going through that lil human skull of yours." He tsks, bringing both his hands into the pockets of his uniform, leveling you with a serious stare. "It helps, with the anxiety."</p><p>Your heart skips a beat. You open up your mouth to say something, <em>anything </em>but nothing comes out.</p><p>Mammon gives you a self-deprecating little smile. "Ya ain't slick, I've noticed."</p><p><em>Ah, </em>you kick yourself mentally. Of course he would notice. You were never too good at keeping in the obvious signs of your anxiety. Even now you can feel your breathing pick up, just the tiniest amount, but still too fast for it to be normal.</p><p>Mammon considers you for a second. Steps closer to you, and when you instinctively take one back, he makes sure to stop. Gives you ample space.</p><p>You are <em>not</em> going to panic.</p><p>"Listen. 'm not doing this 'cause I care about ya," which sounds like a lie but okay, "it's gonna be a pain in the ass explainin' to Luci why the exchange human student up and had a mental breakdown. So I'm helping ya out, take it or leave it."</p><p>"..." and heavens, you're <em>actually</em> considering it now. "...and this won't fuck me up?"</p><p>Mammon nods. "It helps. I know."</p><p>You regard him curiously, filing that bit of information away for later inspection. </p><p>A part of you wants to trust in him, and hell, maybe you actually do if you're already examining the packet instead of texting Lucifer and snitching on his brother for giving you, the human, a drug that has probably not been tested in anyone besides demons. However, the other part of you, the <em>reasonable </em>one likes to remind you that he's a demon and—</p><p>You squint at him. "What's it gonna cost me?"</p><p>Mammon blinks, and then his face breaks out into a grin that's too many sharp teeth and everything <em>but </em>nice. "Smart."</p><p>You punch him in the arm, not softly, because you have no self-preservation skills. "I'm not joking, seriously, what do you want in exchange?"</p><p>"From you? Nothing. Already got dibs on your soul, human." The way he says it is so casual that you can't help but be reminded of the fact that yes, you gave up your soul for a dumb anime figure. Fuck Leviathan. "<em>But</em>, it's good that you're not just out here accepting shit for what it is, gotta be smart to keep ya pretty lil head attached to your body."</p><p>You scowl.</p><p>"Then <em>why.</em>" You shoot his grimm filled pockets a look, there's no way he's giving you this out of the goodness of his heart. Then you look back up at him, reconsider your priorities, and ask; "What do <em>you</em> gain out of it?"</p><p>Mammon considers you for a second, opens his mouth to answer (you're ninety-nine percent sure that he wants to tell you. Maybe. Possibly); "Your lil human brain wouldn't get it."</p><p>You open your mouth to defend your own honor, because, <em>sure</em> he could kill you right here and feign innocence when he comes back to the house with no you in sight, but there's also no one around and you have a <em>pact mark</em> that could come in useful right about now.</p><p>(Not that you know how to even use it. Intention? God, you're sure that time with Leviathan must've been a fluke).</p><p>(It'd also be super embarrassing if you did and it didn't work, and might as well beg the man to kill you himself, save you the suffering). </p><p>But Mammon pulls out another packet from his school uniform, rips it open and <em>ah</em>. It's like a small tic-tac pill, white and inconspicuous.</p><p>He holds it between his index and thumb, makes a show out of opening up his mouth and placing it on his tongue. Swallowing. Even goes as far as showing you the inside of his mouth after the fact, little <em>aah</em> sound and all. Then he shoots you an expectant look. As if to say; <em>see! I'm fine.</em></p><p>"It ain't kill me, it ain't gonna do shit to you." He huffs out. Leans closer to you, in what you assume is an attempt to peer pressure you and you're suddenly aware of the years spent in school with your teachers telling you to not take drugs from strangers. As if he can hear your thoughts, Mammon relents, just a bit. "I'm not gonna force ya, but you lose nothin' by trying it out. Don't like, not gonna give you another pill. It'd just be a waste of my grimm."</p><p>While he's been speaking, you've noticed the way his shoulders have slumped slightly. The way his voice has gone lower, softer (and with it the nerves inside of you fizzling), and his blue eyes beginning to drown themselves by the encompassing enlargement of his own pupils. One minute normal and then next bigger. </p><p>You lick your lips, and his eyes zero in on the movement.</p><p>"Okay." You say. "I trust you."</p><p>You rip open your own little packet, taking the pill and placing it inside of your mouth. You swallow. Frowning when you notice that you can't feel it going down your throat and then—</p><p>Oh.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>"Good?" Mammon asks, even though he knows the answer already. </p><p>You didn't know what you were expecting but it's not this.</p><p>(Everything feels the same, just a bit more muted. Like you're not hyperaware of anything anymore. It's just you, and Mammon).</p><p>(How quiet).</p><p>(Your palm burns).</p><p>Mammon holds on to your hand, looks at you questioningly. It takes you a couple of second to open up your mouth, and you think you might be smiling when you squeeze his back.</p><p>"Yeah."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 02</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warning for vomiting and canon-typical violence (lucifer's punishment)</p><p>sorry if you got a double email for this update ??? ao3 is weird with the chapter publication date ugh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>02.</strong>
</p><p>As a child, a lot of things used to upset you.</p><p>Moving to a new school, meeting new people, trying out new food, participating in new hobbies that your parents would try to—and unsuccessfully—encourage you to try out once you grew bored out of your old passion. The gist of it is that you don't deal too well with the <em>unknown, </em>and as you grow older you begin to learn how to deal with that thing. After a certain age, it gets... well, not easier. </p><p>Being able to properly identify your feelings and understand what's going on inside your head helps. It helps, by a lot. You know when to pull away when it becomes <em>too much</em> and you're gritting your teeth and the conversation begins to flicker in and out, breathing coming in short, sharp intervals and—</p><p>You learn how to deal with it.</p><p>(At some point during your life, you don't get a hand to hold you through your anxiety attacks. You don't get the same type of patience from adults as a kid, now that you're an adult yourself. Everyone is dealing with their own shit, and you've become aware enough to realize that it's incredibly selfish and naïve to think that someone will willingly stay besides you while you're losing your shit. Because you never learned how to properly speak your feelings out).</p><p>(And then you meet Mammon).</p><p>Which is why when you're dragged into this whole mess, your first reaction is to <em>not</em> freak out. You don't know <em>anything</em> about demons and somehow the idea of looking even more weak in their presence than they already believe you to be leaves you feeling sour, and well, you're petty for a reason and hard-headed and you will <em>not</em> show weakness.</p><p>(Even though they have no qualms in letting you know that <em>your heart beats too loud, you're sweating, and you look like a deer in headlights. There's a reason I'm assigning you Mammon as your guardian).</em></p><p>For a while, it works.</p><p>You don't have time to deal with the anxiety, so you push it <em>down</em> until it's nothing more than a faint buzzing, there, but manageable. Some nights it's easy to ignore it and fall asleep. Other nights it proves difficult and you have a tendency to lose track of time. </p><p>(Sometimes you hear a voice whispering to you, between that fragile veil of awareness and unconsciousness, begging, pleading—<em>the attic, help me</em>).</p><p>But it only works for a little while. You don't notice it a day after the pact with Mammon is finalized, you also don't notice it after your little conversation with him in that secluded corner of the school. You <em>especially</em> don't notice it throughout the day after that, mind blessedly silent. </p><p>"Oh?" Solomon's voice takes an interesting tone to it, and you look up from your notes—far neater than the chicken-scratch he calls handwriting—and the other set of notes that you're writing down for Mammon. Mammon who's supposed to be here studying with you and Solomon for your upcoming exam, instead of being outside doing god knows what.</p><p>("You two are basically joined at the hip." Solomon had joked, once. And you had blinked at him, wanting to deny it, but then you remembered the pact mark, which you show him, and it's not like he's completely <em>wrong</em>).</p><p>"What?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows when you notice he's still go his hand inside your bag. "Is my textbook missing?" Because it wouldn't be the first time, really. Not because of you, mind you, but because Mammon has no concept of ownership and respect for other's stuff if it's not his. </p><p>(To his credit, once you asked nicely enough he stopped going through your own stuff constantly. Nowadays he steals maybe a pen, or your left shoe, for whatever reason). </p><p>Solomon gives you an appraising look, pulling out a small packet. Black. A packet that <em>shouldn't</em> be in your bag and—</p><p>God you're going to kill Mammon.</p><p>"You've been here for less than a month and already doing <em>Fall</em>?" Solomon whistles, "the demons took a liking to you faster than I expected if they're sharing this with you already. Took me a whole year before anyone offered me anything, even as tame as it is."</p><p>You have a feeling it has less to do with the fact that he's human—well, not <em>really</em>—and more about the fact that he's shady as all hell and you've heard the rumors. Solomon has a penchant for collecting pacts as he is collecting secrets, so really, you can't blame demons for not wanting to associate with him in any sort of way. Even if it's by the distribution of drugs. </p><p>(Even though Mammon willingly joined a pact with you for a dumb credit card, so what do <em>you</em> know?).</p><p>"<em>Fall?</em>" You of course, do not tell him that. Then, because he's still looking at you like that, you amend: "I um, only tried it once. Mammon gave it to me."</p><p>His eyebrows rise. "Mammon did?"</p><p>"But it was only <em>once</em>," and you're not sure why there's an <em>unopened</em> packet in your bag since you distinctly remember telling him that you weren't interested in it. <em>Yes</em>, it was nice for those twenty-four hours you were under the effects of it, but ultimately useless. "And I'm not that type of person you know, I don't—"</p><p>Solomon places the packet on the table. You snap your mouth shut. He eyes you, and then offers you a smile that feels more mocking than supportive. </p><p>"I'm not judging you," He shrugs, "we are in The Devildom, after-all. Human morals don't exactly apply in this place, and this isn't the worse thing you could be doing." </p><p>Which is not comforting at all because this just reminds you that there aren't exactly any laws that prohibit murder around here, so now you feel a little stupid, considering the fact that you're acting <em>guilty</em> over a drug that seems common to hell and back.</p><p>(You start to notice it, students taking it during the most stressful weeks of school. You think you saw some professors as well, which is just plain out weird because whenever Lucifer and Satan are around they all hide it. So what is it?)</p><p>"You sound surprised though." You place your pencil down, not even sparing your notes another glance. The conversation has turned interesting.</p><p>This is the most Solomon has said that hasn't set alarms ringing in your head, or made you cautious of what he said. He has a habit of sounding mocking, and cruel, and holier-than-thou. </p><p>"Mostly because of your pact," his blue-grey eyes settle on the hand where the pact mark sits. "Demons aren't too keen on being... weak, you see."</p><p>No, you don't see. Because he makes no sense whatsoever.</p><p>You level him a stare, and Solomon stares back. You make a small, frustrated noise, and his eyes shine in delight.</p><p>"You know, there's something very amusing about this pact's circumstances'," he says, laughter in his eyes. You disagree, mostly on the point that your <em>soul</em> is no longer yours and is apparently worth nothing more than a dumb credit card called Goldie and a fucking anime figure. "But give I've got seventy-two and counting... I feel like I'm in no place to talk."</p><p>Your eyes widen. "Seventy-two?" </p><p>Solomon nods.</p><p>This is... well, it's not like you didn't <em>know</em>, because again, rumors. It's a completely different thing to be hearing affirmation from the person himself. You don't tell Solomon this, but the fact that he's still very much alive and looking not-too bad for wear, it settles and quiets something inside of you. Because if Solomon has somehow, divided his <em>very human</em> <em>soul</em> into seventy-two pieces, then maybe Mammon owning your soul isn't as bad as your imagination has lead you to believe. </p><p>But now you have <em>so many questions</em>, a lot of which you don't even know how to begin wording and—</p><p>"What did you mean about <em>'being weak'?</em> I thought demons would gain something out of the pact." You ask, and then after a beat add; "I mean, sure, souls and all that. But you're making it seem like there's disadvantages to this whole thing."</p><p>Solomon tilts his head, smiling. "You catch on quickly. You're right, the pact favors the demon in the end—after-all, they have a soul to collect once you die—but it also poses as a disadvantage to them." Solomon taps his fingers against the table. "The human loses their soul, but in exchange they gain a demon's undevoted loyalty and services. Demons are simple creatures, they live a long time, are hard to kill, they do pacts out of boredom and selfish reasons but at their core they're looking for nothing more than a nice distraction with a reward at the end."</p><p>You can't possibly see what Mammon would gain out of a pact with you. If anything, he already got what he wanted (will not stop kissing that cursed credit card and talking to it like it's <em>sentient)</em> so the knowledge that you gave up your soul for a fucking piece of plastic isn't exactly eliciting any happy feelings from you. </p><p>(You also don't gain anything from the pact. He was already forced to be your guardian, so asking for protection seems useless. You have no enemies, no real reason to need a demon's assistance, unless he's good at math and Mammon is, but <em>god</em> the effort to get him to do shit just isn't worth it).</p><p>"Disadvantages come at the fact that they could be forced to do things without their consent," Solomon continues. And yeah, no. You're not interested in that at all. Maybe you need to sit down with Mammon and actually talk about this whole thing, "and also the whole sharing emotions thing."</p><p>"The what now?"</p><p>"Although," Solomon muses, ignoring your question. "I do believe summoning's are also disadvantages. I know Asmodeus tends to get... temperamental whenever I require of his assistance and catch him at a bad time."  </p><p>You snap your fingers at Solomon, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Hey, what's that "emotion sharing" thing about?"</p><p>Solomon regards you curiously. "Let me ask <em>you</em> something. Have you felt anything... <em>off</em> lately with your emotions?"</p><p><em>Aside from the constant fear of being eaten alive</em>? You want to joke, and you open your mouth to say <em>No, not really</em> but then you hear Mammon's voice, suddenly crystal clear in your head.</p><p>
  <em>"It helps. I know."</em>
</p><p>And fuck.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>You stand up from the chair, picking up your notes and cramming all of them inside your bag, uncaring of the way they're probably going to be fucked and unreadable but that doesn't matter, not when things become <em>completely</em> clear and you can't fucking believe you didn't understand until now and—</p><p>Mammon is half an hour late.</p><p>"I'm sorry," you wheeze out through lungs that can't bring in enough air, shooting Solomon a look you <em>hope</em> is apologetic and not quite as frantic and panicked as you feel right now. "I have to go."</p><p>You don't get to hear if he ever replies. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and running outside of the library and out into the open. You see a few heads turn your way but ultimately leave you alone. You're not even sure when you're going anymore, but your feet end up carrying you to another building. The last building you were walking with Mammon in.</p><p>You make it to the inside, blessedly cool and empty save for a few students walking around and paying you no mind. Your hands are shaking when you reach into your pocket for you phone and open up the messaging app. You have a couple of texts from Asmodeus from earlier today, (an unopened) one from Lucifer, and then Mammon's own conversation with him. When you open up the conversation it takes you a couple of tries, hands sweaty and trembling, pact mark beginning to throb uncomfortably.</p><p>You shoot him a text.</p><p>It remains unanswered after a minute.</p><p>(Mammon might complain a lot about you being <em>too clingy</em> but the matter of the fact is that he's <em>always</em> attached to his phone and is a goddamn fast reply when it comes to text messages. Like he's always down for a conversation, no matter how ridiculous the topic might be).</p><p><em>You just need answers, that's all. </em>Is what you tell yourself when you dial the call button on his phone. It rings, rings, rings and then it goes to voicemail.</p><p>You try again.</p><p>Same results.</p><p>"Okay." You breathe out, lean your body against a wall and breathe deeply. There's no reason for you to be freaking out now. Nothing that Solomon said is anything surprising (<em>"It helps. I know.") </em>except for the sharing emotions thing, and you're not slow, you can put two and two together. Wonder just <em>how</em> and <em>why</em> you hadn't realized it before, that weird feeling that you couldn't quite understand what it was.</p><p>You wonder if Mammon even realizes what he's done.</p><p>(There's no way he didn't, right? But then why not tell you anything, why wouldn't <em>Leviathan</em> say anything either?)</p><p>(But then again, he gave you that thing, said he <em>knows</em> and that he could point out that you were freaking out. The thought makes you nauseous—the idea of your feelings, your emotions, your <em>personal</em> grievances being shared with another party, attuned to your every mood.)</p><p>You don't know if the whole thing works both ways, aren't too keen on finding out either what's with Mammon's tendency to get into trouble and...</p><p>Ah.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>You dial again, and after two rings, a voice rings out, surprised.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Lucifer," you say, trying to calm your—<em>Mammon's</em> racing heart, faint but there and influencing your own body to think it's <em>you—</em>breathing, sound less out of breath and on the verge of panicking. You bring a hand up to your head, press against your forehead and close your eyes. "I—where's... where's Mammon?"</p><p>Lucifer makes a sound, and in the background you hear <em>something</em> but can't quite make out what it is because you don't feel good at all anymore. "You're telling me <em>you </em>don't know?"</p><p>You grit your teeth. "No, I don't, that's why I fucking called <em>you</em>."</p><p>You inhale, let out a shaky breath and sit down on the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest and trying to calm yourself. You need to find Mammon now.</p><p>"I'm sorry," you say, "I'm just—" <em>freaking out, found out I'm way in over my head and I think your brother might be in danger because he's freaking out and now </em>I'm<em> freaking out and I don't want this, I don't want this I don't—</em>"he didn't show up for our study session with Solomon."</p><p>Lucifer makes a sound, and then you hear it again. That <em>something</em> in the background that sounds a lot like <em>whimpering</em>, makes your stomach curl unpleasantly. "I would apologize for my brother's behavior but we both know that won't do anything, Mammon's always been a masochist for punishment."</p><p>You don't—</p><p>"As it stands, I am not his keeper." Lucifer sighs, sounding disappointed and then you hear the <em>snap</em> of leather. "Do not make it a habit to call me if you need to know about his whereabouts. Although this time around I'm partly to blame for his lateness to his study session with the two of you, see he <em>was</em> on his way to the library but Mammon has a penchant for inciting <em>misconduct</em> around campus."</p><p>You feel your heart stop. Lucifer doesn't continue.</p><p>"Is he..." the words die in your mouth, realization dawning on you when you realize that the background noise hasn't stopped. The whimpering, crying, the <em>muffled</em> words.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Oh.</p><p>You bite the inside of your cheek. It's a weird feeling, the whole sharing emotions thing. Because right now, <em>you're</em> calm, a bit disturbed sure, but you also understand that the feelings of <em>fear </em>and <em>pain</em> and <em>please stop</em> are not from you, but from Mammon. Mammon who is right now being "punished" for something, and it's just—</p><p>(God, that's fucked up, it's <em>so</em> fucked up, and you have Thoughts about this whole thing they have going on because Mammon certainly can't enjoy it and why isn't anyone doing anything and—)</p><p>(<em>I can</em>, you think. <em>I can do something about it</em>).</p><p>"If you're quite done," Lucifer says, and you think <em>no, wait, don't—</em>"I have business to attend to with him, he'll be present for once at home so if you need to study with him that would be the most ideal time."</p><p>"Lucifer, wait, seriously don't—"</p><p>The line clicks.</p><p>You let out a frustrated sound and smash the phone to the floor. The hand on your forehead curls into a fist, nails digging into your palm where the pact mark begins to <em>burn </em>and your vision begins to cloud. The tightness in your chest doubles, and breathing comes out in sharp wheezes of air. You don't <em>know</em> what to do because—</p><p>You've never—</p><p>(He was looking out for you. Mammon <em>knew</em> and he was looking out for <em>you</em>, not out of a sense of annoyance that he could feel what <em>you're </em>feeling, but because it goes <em>both ways</em>).</p><p>"<em>Mammon</em>," you choke out, word heavy on your tongue. The air smells faintly of Sulphur, of something <em>gold </em>and burning. "<em>I need you here, please."</em></p><p>And then you feel it—Your stomach lurching, the pact mark burning, and the faint realization that you can't breathe. Something tugging at your heart, your <em>soul. </em>You open up your eyes to find blue eyes trained on you, widened in shock.</p><p>Mammon's kneeling in front of you, panicked breathing, mouth bared in sharp teeth and covered in too many scars and bruises and <em>blood</em> to properly count. His hands are outstretched, eyes hazy like he can't quite understand what's happening. But he's here, and solid and—</p><p>Vomiting bile to the side of the floor. </p><p>(But he's <em>here</em>).</p><p>"Oh fuck," he breathes out, his voice is hoarse and if you focus enough you can tell that there are marks around the side of his mouth and lower jaw, like he's been gagged. He wipes at the mess of his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing. "Fuck, <em>fuck</em> Luci's gonna kill me."</p><p>(His hands are shaking).</p><p>"What is wrong with you?" Your voice comes out higher than you wanted it to, and you flinch a little when it echoes back in the corridor. Mammon startles, like he didn't notice you there. His shoulders tense and then ease a little, but he's still coiled tight, a viper ready to strike if you pose any danger.</p><p>"The hell you mean?" He grunts out, like he doesn't understand that <em>this</em>, whatever the fuck is happening right now, is not in any capacity <em>normal</em> and you're not qualified to deal with any of this.</p><p>"The lies!" You says, exasperated and on the verge of crying. You think you feel your lips wobble, a smile worming it's way into your face. "I can <em>feel</em> you Mammon, not before, but now I can and I'm concerned because—"</p><p>—<em>because, why now? </em>you think. Why now, and not back when you first made the pact? </p><p>(You have an idea, but it makes you feel shitty because it means then that he's been drugging himself to save you the uncomfortable drawbacks of the pact, like you were <em>forced</em> to do it and it wasn't the other way around).</p><p>"I'm sorry," Mammon says, low, and your heart squeezes because <em>oh, Mammon. </em></p><p>"No," you breathe out, shaky. Let your legs fall down to floor, leave a space for him and beckon him closer. "No you don't—<em>fuck,</em> why are you apologizing."</p><p>Mammon shrugs, a small thing. His eyes settle on yours before they flicker off the side. He looks tired, and hurt, and so <em>done. </em></p><p>So, <em>so done.</em></p><p>"..." Mammon purses his lips together, and after a moment of hesitance he slides forward until he's in between your legs, he's still shaking. Still feels like he's coming down from those negative emotions, far faster than you've ever been able to do with your own shit. You hate it so much right now.</p><p>(Is he doing it to not worry <em>you?</em> There's a lot wrong with that).</p><p>"What did you do?" You ask.</p><p>"...Luci caught me," Mammon mumbles, still not looking at you. "Wasn't tryin' to scare ya, sorry."</p><p>Mammon curls in on himself, and you feel <em>him</em> and the shame that settles inside of you, right next to your own anger (not at him specifically, but still there nonetheless). It's concerning, is what it is, and you can't... you <em>don't</em> have the energy to play therapist, you're not qualified. This is just a mess waiting to happen.</p><p>Your eyes flicker down his torso, where the marks of his demon form have been tainted red with his blood. You press your tongue to the back of your teeth, quiet. Angry.</p><p>"Already did." You say.</p><p>"Sorry."</p><p>"Stop apologizing," you say. "It's weird... and it's fine."</p><p>It's really not. <em>It's </em><em>really not</em>, but this isn't exactly the time to get into that. </p><p>"'s not supposed to get involved," Mammon slurs out, body heavy on top of you and bleeding all over your uniform and your neck where his head slumps forward. It's an uncomfortable tangle of limbs, but it feels <em>right</em>, whole. Complete. </p><p>(It feels safe).</p><p>You laugh, sounding delirious, probably. Your cheeks feel wet. "Too late to be saying that. You made it my problem when you decided to form a pact with me."</p><p>Mammon makes a sound, and something like <em>hurt</em> squeezes your chest, briefly, only to give into disappointment. You don't question him about it, instead you wrap your arms around him, mindful of the scars and bruises and the blood, and you let Mammon's breathing even out. </p><p>(You don't tell him that regardless of the pact, you would still be here, maybe).</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>//gestures vaguely at this</p><p>i had an emotional breakdown the other day because adulting sucks and i got seriously scared i would be out of a job by the end of this month so after sorting my shit out i pulled this out of my ass. there's a plot. trust me. im sorry if i make out lucifer to be an asshole to mammon in like,,, almost all of my fics, but when i write im thinking of their dynamics before the mc started to play family therapist. </p><p>never beta read, all mistakes are my own. you know the drill, come yell at me on my <a href="https://twitter.com/crystalbases">twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>